Insubordination
by May Eve
Summary: They said it was insubordination. They gave him twenty-four hours - he was gone in twenty. Captain James T. Kirk had been forced to leave Starfleet and little would ever be the same.
1. Chapter I

**Title**: Insubordination  
**Author**: May Eve  
**Fandom**: Star Trek: 2009  
**Summary**: They said it was insubordination. They gave him twenty-four hours - he was gone in twenty. Captain James T. Kirk had been forced to leave Starfleet and little would ever be the same.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own a thing.  
**Characters/Pairing**: Jim Kirk, Spock, Spock Prime, the Enterprise crew, the Admirals, OCs, pairing undecided  
**Warnings**: n/a  
**Rating**: T

* * *

Insubordination:

Chapter I

* * *

The shadows were just beginning to retreat from the Academy buildings when the young crew of the Enterprise gathered at the school's front gates. Astride an antique, cherry-red motorbike was their Captain, James T. Kirk.

Word had spread fast through campus gossips when James Kirk, hero of the Narada incident and Captain of the Enterprise, was seen exiting the Admirals' office pale and tense earlier the previous day. It hadn't taken long before there was a formal announcement of his 'retirement' by Admiral Barnett. No one was fooled. A blind man could tell how Kirk adored his captaincy and the truth soon traveled—James Kirk had been discharged from Starfleet on charges of insubordination. His retirement was a cover to protect Starfleet from any backlash at their treatment of Earth's hero.

It was designed with very good reason. Already students had threatened to drop out in their outrage on his behalf and every officer with personal experience of what was fondly dubbed The Kirk Phenomenon grew quietly mutinous.

Jim set things straight, though. When he discovered their behavior, he invited the instigators to speak with him in private. No one knew what exactly he said, but all signs of rebellion were swiftly silenced and he was ready to depart at dawn the very next morning.

* * *

Jim was terrible at goodbyes and he knew it, but he couldn't leave his crew without trying. None of them questioned the request to meet him at such a godforsaken hour, just gathered quietly to see him off - and argue, in a few cases.

"Dammit, Jim, this isn't right! How can they do this? How can you just give up!" Leonard McCoy growled at his best friend. Jim just smiled sadly and gave the man a quick hug.

"I'm gonna miss you, too. Don't worry, Bones. It'll be alright." McCoy opened his mouth to comment but Jim cut him off, "No, Bones. You're not coming with me. Starfleet needs you here. You're one of the best damn doctors in the Fleet and there's too few left." The doctor grunted and grumbled but stayed silent, his eyes fixed on Jim as though to imprint his image on his memory. He knew the kid was right, but damn it all, he didn't have to like it.

"You promise me you'll stay out of trouble, Jim. Or at least try," he added hastily at the childish pout that formed on the man's features. They'd had this argument before. Jim always maintained that he didn't go looking for trouble, it just followed him around until he got bored enough to poke it with a stick and see if it bites.

Jim grinned at Bones and clapped his shoulder with a mischievous, "Promise." The doctor sighed. He figured that was the best he would get and stepped back to allow the others their chance. Jim's grin softened as he took in the alternately sorrowful and angry faces of his bridge crew.

"I know you guys are pissed." There was a vaguely furious rumbling from Sulu and Uhura as Spock's eyebrow rose a few inches. Jim couldn't help but chuckle. Uhura's glare transferred from the ground to his face. He only grinned and respectfully ignored the wetness at the corners of her eyes.

"But this is necessary. I can't—won't—explain." Uhura actually growled at him.

"I'm sorry. I really am." And for a moment he let them see how exhausted, how utterly heartbroken he was over this. "But you guys have to know I'd never leave without a damn good reason." There were no more angry faces, but now there were tears. Taking a step forward, he gave Chekov, Uhura, and Chapel each a quick hug. He clapped Sulu, Bones, and Spock on the shoulder. Leaning in, he murmured a few words for each of his crew, gave them something to hold on to, to remember.

When he stepped back, he stood still and just looked at them for several moments, memorizing their faces. Then he forced himself to turn away and take a step toward the streak of blood-red metal that stained his horizon.

"You guys are the best crew any Captain could ask for." He heard a choked sob behind him, but didn't turn to see who it came from. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he looked back now, he'd never be able to leave. No matter the cost.

"I won't be in touch," he said abruptly. He cut off the questions and protests before they even began, "It's too dangerous. You can't know how much."

Then he allowed himself to face them one last time. He was taking a risk, but this was too important. They had to understand this, if nothing else. He met six pairs of eyes before speaking.

"But if you need me—really need me—Spock will be able to contact me. If you call, I will always come. Never doubt that." Spock spoke up then, "How shall I be able to reach you, Captain?" His face was carefully neutral and voice bland. Or at least, that was what he seemed to be trying for. Jim clearly heard the undercurrent of grief, of sorrow, of frustration.

Shaking his head slightly, Jim managed his brightest smile just for Spock, trying to tell him without words, _Don't worry. Trust me. We will meet again._ And of course, the same words he'd murmured to him just minutes ago—_I am, and will always be, your friend._

"I'll keep our mutual friend updated with a way to reach me."

Without another word, he forced himself away, over to his new bike. He yanked the black helmet over his head, shut the visor, and zipped up his prized leather jacket. In seconds, he had gunned the engine and sped away down the open stretch of highway outside San Francisco. He never looked back.

An hour later, he skidded to the side of the road and pulled out his communicator, "Jim Kirk to Admiral Pike."

Pike answered at once and Jim tried to ignore the deepening stress lines around his forehead and eyes, "Pike. I'm gone. Make sure Barnett holds up his end." The monotone of his voice could have impressed a Vulcan. Pike only nodded, signing off with terribly sad eyes and a quiet, "Good luck, Jim."

Jim leaned on his bike for minutes afterward, staring down the flat line of asphalt to the horizon. Then he sighed, hopped on, and kick-started in one smooth motion.

James T. Kirk would not be seen or heard from again for three long years.

* * *

_Edited December 22, 2011._


	2. Chapter II

**A/N**: If anyone out there feels they could give me a comprehensive explanation of the Klingon race, in which I will likely ask many seemingly inane and detailed questions, _please_ do so. Suffice to say, it is necessary to this fic and that's as close to a spoiler as you're going to get. (Snickerdoodles to anyone who catches all the references.)

* * *

Insubordination:

Chapter II

* * *

Jim's eyes fell shut as he leaned heavily against a wall on the cargo ship, _Excalibur_. He had made friends with the owner over a half dozen shots of Cardassian Sunshine his fifth night out and the man had offered him a place to crash before heading out in the morning. He was somewhere around Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana, and that was all he could really remember of the past few days. After his last call to Pike, he'd shut down, speeding off on his motorcycle without consideration for laws or destination. He'd driven for three days without halt, not registering the passing of time or space until he got lightheaded and nearly crashed into a tree. Barely aware, he'd stopped at the next roadside diner and scarfed two greasy cheeseburgers before heading out again, slightly clearer-headed.

He'd driven another day and a half before realizing he was being ridiculous and had to sleep eventually. Turning to his old cure-all in hopes of a dreamless sleep, Jim had pulled into the first bar he came across—an ancient-looking dive called Strangefellows. From there was another blur of time and drinks and raucous voices when Alex, _Excalibur_'s owner, dragged him to a table crowded with his crew.

_Damn_, but his head ached. It was a little after three in the morning and he'd woken abruptly, soaked in sweat, his dream fuzzy and shadowed already. He was bunked in the tiny passenger's quarters, the room bare but for a cheap, military regulation bed and an old chest of drawers, both bolted firmly to the floor. He blinked his eyes open slowly, reasonably certain that he did not want to risk dreaming again. His sigh was inaudible but the bed creaked warningly when he pulled himself up and dragged himself to the bathroom, which was possibly even smaller than the bedroom.

Listlessly, he went about his morning routine, brushing his teeth, combing his hair and having a quick shave. Deciding at the last moment that a hot shower would be pretty nice and realizing that this may well be his last for a while, he stripped quickly and allowed himself to enjoy the ten minute shower as much as he was able. He had a nasty feeling that this day was going to be _long_.

* * *

Jim slipped silently through the ship's corridors, peeking through any open doorways in search of a replicator, or even a kitchen. He really wanted coffee.

The corridors were a bit chilly so early and he spared a moment to wish he'd put on socks before pausing at the next door. A vaguely familiar figure was seated at a simple stainless steel table, sipping at a steaming cup of what smelled deliciously like fresh coffee. Jim hesitated only a moment before moving toward the man's seat where he leaned back, eyes closed. Tapping his shoulder lightly, Jim took a step back at the startled yelp and instinctive grasping for a weapon that wasn't there. Then the man caught sight of him, blinked, and laughed sheepishly, running a hand through unruly bed hair.

Jim grinned cheerfully at the man's expense, stepping back up to the table and gesturing wordlessly at the coffee mug. The man snorted and waved at an old-fashioned coffeemaker on the counter. Jim's grin broadened at the thought of _real_ coffee rather than replicated crap. Snatching a mug from beside the machine, he settled back at the table across from the man with a full cup of coffee and savored the first sip. _That is much better_, he thought blissfully.

After draining most of the first cup, he was feeling a little more alive, the rush of caffeine warming his blood. Sitting back, Jim examined his companion through half-lidded eyes over his own large mug. The man appeared to be in his late forties, maybe early fifties, and he was a bear of a man. Easily topping six foot, he was built like a bodybuilder – a name whispered in his muddled conscious and Jim spoke without thinking.

"Alex?" The man identified as Alex grinned, supremely amused, and responded, "Well, I'm glad ta see ya remember me, friend, though I'm afraid I can't say much of the same." Jim grinned this time and offered his hand, "Jim. Nice to meet you." Alex took the offered hand and shook it firmly, seeming quite impressed when Jim didn't wince but returned the shake solidly. It was his turn to look Jim up and down and Jim recognized when the man noticed the dark circles under his eyes and their semi-permanent lidded state. His lips twitched, "Painkiller?"

Jim groaned quietly as Alex's shifting allowed the rising sun to shine right into his sensitive eyes – he could usually more than hold his alcohol, but last night had seen some true binging. He nodded cautiously and Alex chuckled, moving to a cabinet just above the coffeemaker. Once Jim had swallowed the pill, careful to check the name in case he was allergic, the both of them settled and Alex gestured for Jim to speak if he wished. Jim cut right to the chase, "Do you have any idea what happened last night?"

The man grimaced and shook his head, " 'fraid not. All a great blur after I think the third shot of Sunshine."

Jim's grin was lopsided, "I've got a blank after the fifth. I vaguely remember you introducing me to your crew, but after that…"

"Yeah."

They sat in a comfortable silence until Alex broke it. "So, what's your story?" Jim shrugged, "Born and raised in Iowa, washed out of Starfleet and decided to drink away my woes." The man met his eyes sympathetically.

"You?"

Alex rolled his shoulders and absently cracked his neck before responding, "Well, ya know this is my ship, my lovely _Excalibur_. Picked her up after washin' out of Starfleet myself, first year in the Academy." He gazed fondly around the room and patted the wall at his back, Jim watching amusedly. "I've been her captain some ten years now. Me and my crew transport all sorts of goods across the galaxy, though we do get the occasional wanderin' passenger. Meet some interestin' folks that way," he chuckled suddenly.

"Ya shoulda seen this one lad we got a few months back – Andorian, I think. He was a character. Apparently worked as an assassin for one of the rebel groups on a neighborin' planet. Wouldn't know it ta meet him, the lad was terrified of his own shadow. Best part, though, was probably when Kylie found out he slept with a teddy bear." Jim stared at him, before laughing incredulously. Alex grinned and added, with distinct relish, "Of course, even better was when she snapped a picture of the thing to show us later. The lad was cuddlin' it like a lover, it bein' near as long as he was. He never could figure out why we were all laughin' at him the rest of the trip." Jim shook his head, disbelieving, and laughed along with Alex.

There was another pause in conversation before Alex, again, broke it, eyeing Jim thoughtfully, "So, Starfleet, eh? I don't suppose ya could fly this ol' beauty?"

Jim started at the offer but thought it over seriously. He knew he could do it, if he hadn't gone for command track he could've been a pilot, but did he really want to be back on a ship so soon after losing the _Enterprise_? He winced mentally at the thought of his own beloved starship; he wasn't sure. It was difficult enough at this point, acting normally with Alex was already wearing at him. But…he had to do something. He knew himself well enough to know that if he didn't find something productive to do, soon, he'd fall back into old habits and old haunts, retreat into himself to mourn. He couldn't let that happen. Not again.

Alex had waited patiently while Jim thought it over, not commenting when Jim finally met his eyes again. Those blue eyes had already been guarded, if friendly, but now he caught a glimpse of the edges of something sharp, something jagged and ferocious, for just a moment before it vanished and Jim was smiling again, "I think you've got yourself a pilot." Alex grinned and stood, moving around the table to clap the lad on the back, then refill his coffee. When he returned to his seat, Jim took a sip before remembering a question he'd had before the job offer came up.

"Kylie?"

"Kylie Minnaws, you might've met her last night, if that means anything. You'll want to watch out for her. She looks like a pretty doll but the girl is _mean_. I love her to death, known her since she was even tinier, but she's grown a bit and she…overcompensates."

Jim raised an eyebrow and Alex sighed, "Kylie's a certified pyromaniac with a bit of a thing for explosives. Whatever ya do, don't surprise her. The girl carries more things-that-go-boom on her person than most armies." Jim blinked and nodded. He had become somewhat desensitized to the strange and violent and while his responsibilities had forcibly taught him self-control, he was still Jim Kirk – the same adrenaline-fueled teenager who'd decided to drive a car off a cliff. To him, this girl sounded like _fun_. Perhaps more importantly, she sounded like a fantastic distraction from dangerous, idle thoughts.

Just then a shuffling sounded by the door and Jim turned at the same time Alex did. A wisp of a thing, blonde hair chopped to her ears and feathering across her forehead, the girl blinked open bleary blue eyes. Jim thought she rather resembled that little fairy in the old movies his mom loved, Tinkerbell. She looked just like a little Tinkerbell without wings – she was even dressed all in green; a pair of green cargo pants with a dozen, bulging pockets and a dark green tank top that was at least a size small.

Jim blinked when she gave him a sleepy glare and moved mechanically over to Alex, curling up on his lap like a kitten with a muttered, "Mornin', Unc'e Alex."

Jim stared at her and then up at Alex. He assumed this was the infamous Kylie since he couldn't imagine anyone fitting the description better, but this was not what he expected. She seemed to feel his eyes on her as she squinted one eye open to glower at him. Rubbing her face, she sat up on Alex's lap and slid into the seat next to him. Not even lifting her face from her hands, she spoke, "Pervert, you don't stop staring at me in the next five seconds I'll get to find out how loud a man screams when his bits are set on fire."

Jim shook his head and looked at Alex, who shrugged as if to say, _I warned you_.

An hour later found Jim being chased around the room and out into the hall by an irate Kylie, who apparently did not appreciate being called Tinkerbell, Tink, or any variation thereof. The other members of the crew just watched before returning to their conversation, or coffee, depending on how long ago they'd woken up. One of them was nearly as large as Alex and distinctly Romulan, topping out at just under six feet.

"Whatcha think of him, Ru?"

The Romulan tilted his head slightly in thought before responding, "He seems to be a decent human, if secretive." Alex nodded, he had realized as much but Ruunga was especially intuitive and prone to reticence. If he said the lad had secrets than they were _big_ secrets and there were a lot of them.

Yet Jim really did seem "a decent human" as Ruunga had put it. If their arrogant Romulan, who didn't seem to like anyone outside the crew, approved…Turning his eyes to the others around the table, Alex watched everyone for a sign of assent or dissent. He may be captain, but their crew had become more like family than any sort of hierarchy – everybody got a say.

Simone, the ship's doctor when necessary, shrugged. She was an average height and average build, with shoulder-length cinnamon hair and cloudy green eyes – she was almost completely blind, only able to distinguish shadowy shapes and bright lights at the most. She didn't let it slow her any. Her other senses, particularly touch, were heightened in the absence of sight and she had spent years learning to 'see' the world around her by her fingertips.

Ja'uld and his brother Ja'ugn spent a few moments considering before nodding, carefully. They weren't certain but there didn't seem any harm, Alex translated. Neither of them spoke much, at least out loud. He was reasonably certain they had a telepathic connection of sorts; considering how odd they were it wouldn't be surprising. Their mother had been a Klingon, outcast for refusing to kill the children she had begotten in a series of very odd circumstances involving a one night stand with a Vulcan.

Their missing member was gone for good and was precisely the reason Jim was being discussed. Their pilot, Tristan Sierra, had left them just two weeks past. He had been seeing a woman for a number of years and had finally worked up the nerve to propose. She had agreed on the condition that he settled down with her on Earth – she wanted children, and they would have their father. So, they were a pilot short.

They'd gone through five pilots in the past two years, with Tristan lasting the longest at nine months, but none of them had quite clicked into _Excalibur_'s little family of misfits. Jim, however, already seemed to be fitting in well, after a bit of a start at the sight of Ruunga. In fact, from the shouts echoing in the corridors, he and Kylie would get along like a house on fire.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Jim burst into the room, grinning like a loon. He was panting lightly and there was what looked like bits of shrapnel lodged in his hands and hair, with minute smoking holes in his clothing, barely visible burns on the underlying skin. Alex winced; he could guess what was responsible for that sort of damage.

Kylie adored old war technology, said it was more creative, and she liked to specially modify her favorite toys. She was a real hand with machinery – why she made such a damn good engineer – and her absolute favorites were some ancient grenades she had hoarded and experimented with. She had made the shrapnel smaller, sharper, and could now put the things back together like a puzzle box. The process for retrieval of each shard could be quite painful for a living target.

Kylie burst in through the doors next, a malicious smile on her face. Jim only sighed and wiped off some soot absently, "Look, Tink, if you're that insecure I'll leave it alone, alright?" The tiny girl growled and lunged for him but he dodged behind Alex's chair. Alex stifled a sigh.

"Kylie, let the lad be. Jim, stop provoking her." Jim grinned, unrepentant, and Kylie's finger slipped into one of the rings poking from her pockets, twitching convulsively.

"Sit, you two," The captain's tone was mild but firm and they both sank into seats at opposite ends of the table.

"Jim." Jim turned on his chair to face Alex, leaving off smirking at a fuming Kylie.

Alex continued once he had Jim's attention, "Jim, ya haven't been properly introduced to your new crewmates." Alex gestured to each of them and announced their names, Jim nodding or smiling at all of them. Simone especially seemed pleasantly surprised when the young man tapped out some sort of rhythm on the table, to which she responded with a similar combination of taps. Alex and the others were confused, looking back and forth between the two, though Ruunga appeared more calculating than anything.

Alex shook it off when neither deigned to explain, "Well, ladies and gents, I hate to spring this on ya so sudden-like, but I've gotten word of a job for us. Jim, I hope ya can keep up but let me know if there are any problems." Jim's response was a lazily waved hand, _you're joking right?_ Alex shrugged and stood.

"Up, now, you lot. We've got two hours."

* * *

_Edited December 22, 2011._


	3. Chapter III

**Title**: Insubordination  
**Author**: M.E.  
**Fandom**: Star Trek: 2009  
**Summary**: They said it was insubordination. They gave him twenty-four hours - he was gone in twenty. Captain James T. Kirk had been forced to leave Starfleet and little would ever be the same.  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine.  
**Characters/Pairing**: Jim Kirk, Spock, Spock Prime, the Enterprise crew, the Admirals, OCs, pairing undecided  
**Warnings**: minor violence  
**Rating**: T

**A/N**: Uh...*brings up the impenetrable forcefield* You know if you kill me I can't write anymore, right? Sorry for the delay, folks. End of term was nuts.

Thank you, those of you who review, here and on LJ. You're probably the only reason I could continue this. I've never written anything near so long, so this is a challenge. I'm actually really proud of this chapter for being over 3000 words, a personal best. But, I was saying, people, this isn't a hostage situation or anything, but reviews really _really_ help me write. It sounds cliché, but it's true. **When I get a review, it makes me very happy. A happy author writes more.** Plus, reviews keep this fic on my mind, meaning more ideas and more writing. Just a hint.

Enjoy the chapter, folks! ^_^

.::.::.::.::.::.

Insubordination

Chapter III

.::.::.::.::.::.

Jim cackled as he did a last loop-de-loop and dropped gently to the landing dock. Alex was gripping the back of his chair rather more firmly than necessary, he thought, but then the man was looking a tad worn around the edges. The twins were over by the doorway, Ja'ugn looking distinctly green with Ja'uld gripping his shoulder much as Alex was gripping Jim's chair. After a moment's silence, Jim spoke up gleefully, "That impressed, huh?"

Alex attempted to respond, croaking, "Jim," but paused and cleared his throat to try again with a more normal voice, "Jim. That was…somethin'. But how about we don't get a repeat performance, alright?" When Jim put on an offended face, Alex continued, "That was certainly…_impressive_, but I'm not certain my little _Excalibur_ will survive an encore. And clearly ya are a capable pilot. You've made your point."

Jim grinned broadly and agreed to tone down the acrobatics, kindly ignoring Alex's sigh of relief as a delayed response to his amazing skill. He twisted in the pilot's seat and spotted the twins, one muttering under his breath with his eyes shut tightly while the other glared at him balefully, still tightly gripping his twin's shoulder. Jim's grin widened as he rose and strode swiftly for the doorway, clapping the glaring twin on the shoulder, "Now, now, no need to be jealous. Besides, we're early but not so early as to be lingering, eh Alex?" Alex nodded from the console where he was fiddling with the com unit that was on the fritz again. He gave up quickly and shrugged sheepishly at the twins' state.

He passed Jim in the hall and continued to the kitchen. Pressing a round red button on the wall by the door, he spoke into the bastardized old PA system Kylie had rigged for him, "Alright, folks, our new pilot has gotten us here in record time. We've got half an hour before we're due to meet the client. Take your time but be ready to leave soon. And Kylie, the com's on the fritz again. That's all." He released the button and went to make himself some nice, stomach-settling coffee.

In his new quarters, Jim tucked what few possessions he had with him into a dresser drawer. The flight had been fun. He hadn't had the chance to fly such a little ship in a long time and he'd forgotten how much more maneuverable they could be. Understandable, he supposed, since the last time he'd flown such a little ship…well. He'd worked very hard to _not _remember that time in his life. He shook his head firmly and tucked the thoughts away. He couldn't be dealing with them now – or ever again, preferably.

He proceeded to the tiny bathroom for a quick sonic shower then packed the essentials in his bag. Hesitating a moment, he eventually shrugged to himself and decided to arm up as always and if Alex or the others had a problem with it, then too bad. Though, considering Kylie, he doubted there'd be an issue even if they noticed his additions. Quickly, he tucked a short dagger into his comfortably worn boots, another slightly longer one at the small of his back, and a covertly swiped phaser into a concealed holster at his waistline. He tugged a loose T-shirt over his head and shouldered his a last quick look around his quarters, he stepped out the door and checked his watch. Perfect timing. He walked quickly down the hall to the kitchen to find everyone gathered around the table, Alex once more at the head.

Jim dropped gracelessly into the only open seat, between Ruunga and Simone, and focused on Alex.

"Ladies and gents, most of ya are familiar with Bud and ya know the rules of behavior, so I won't bore ya with a refresher. Jim, you're a quick lad, just follow our lead and don't do anythin' stupid." Jim nodded his agreement to those terms and stood when Alex did. Everyone filed out and off the ship – Jim was interested to note that he and Kylie weren't the only ones armed by a wide margin. Each of the twins were openly carrying what appeared to be some sort of old Earth-esque alien long sword at their hips. Alex had his own phaser holstered at his hip and a monster of a machete strapped to his forearm beneath his shirt. Ruunga appeared unarmed and understandably unconcerned considering Romulan strength and his sheer size, though his position as a guard of sorts for Simone was clear. Jim was somewhat amused to note that he and Kylie were actually the least protected overtly, but then, he supposed it made sense. They were the ones who would need the element of surprise; Kylie with her size and her explosives, Jim being the unknown factor.

Jim pulled his attention back to his surroundings as the crew trudged across the landing zone to a middling-sized building off to one side that appeared to be constructed of some sort of shimmering, phosphorescent metal. He studied it thoughtfully – Jim could certainly think up a few ways such a material could be useful. And he'd bet it was expensive, considering the way Kylie kept glancing at it and how she'd practically growled at him when he scuffed his boots on the doorframe. It seemed almost familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he might have seen or heard of it before. Shaking his head, he made sure to stay at the back and appear utterly nonthreatening as a giant of a creature moved to greet Alex.

"Bud! Friend, it's been much too long." So this was Bud. Alex's greeting was enthusiastic, shaking what passed for a hand with cheerful vigor. Jim would bet they did business often and lucratively. He examined the massive figure thoughtfully, trying to recall all the information he'd gleaned about the Rutagen, Bud's species. He knew they were an alien race native to the edges of the known galaxy, recent members of the Federation, and known best for being relatively humanoid but having evolved from their version of cockroaches. Possibly spiders, it was a little uncertain. Besides that, they tended toward being oversized next to a human; though even for a Rutaga, Bud was an astounding size.

Bud waved four of his arms at the crew, Simone nodding politely while the men remained stoic and Kylie bounced over for a hug. Of course, Jim was noticed as soon as Kylie had been released and waved forward. He walked up confidently, though the very rarely acknowledged voice of self-preservation in his head was shouting _not to draw attention to himself_ lest the massive Rutaga decide he was a threat. Jim figured he could take him if it came down to it anyway.

"And who is this, A'lex?" Bud's voice was a roar only slightly tempered by company and curiosity, the slightest accent present in his pronunciation of Alex's name. Alex introduced him politely, "Bud, this is Jim, our new pilot." Bud seemed to laugh at that, "Another one, A'lex?" He shook his head before Alex could respond and offered his hand to Jim, "Buddaganga Ba'lafor, a pleasure to meet you." Jim offered up his trademark grin and a firm shake, "Likewise, Buddaganga Ba'lafor." Bud laughed at his attempt, "Not a bad accent for a human, Jim." Jim's grin widened at the compliment. The Rutagen accent was notoriously tricky. He'd have to thank Uhura for helping him – Jim faltered for just a moment at the abrupt pang of grief, just managing to shake it off before Bud or any of the crew could notice anything off.

Soon, they got down to business and Jim forced himself to focus entirely on the present.

Bud pulled a slim datapad from somewhere inside his well-tailored suit and passed it to Alex for review while he spoke, "I was contacted recently by a man on Zheron IX who needed some help transporting goods to Vera II, an Earth colony in the same star system as the new Vulcan colony." Jim remained carefully expressionless at the mention of New Vulcan. He had never been more glad that he refused to play poster boy for Starfleet after the Narada incident. Not that the higher ups could have used him even if he'd agreed. His history becoming public would have been far too troublesome for far too many important and powerful people. Instead, Spock and Pike received the dubious honor of playing to the press. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of mocking the title Spock had been dubbed with: the Avenger of Vulcan. While technically accurate, it still sounded like a bad twenty-first century superhero comic and Jim never intended to let Spock live it down.

A hand on his shoulder forcibly jerked him from his spiraling thoughts. Jim carefully stepped out from under the hand as he glanced over his shoulder to see Simone, appearing completely unruffled, as seemed to be her mein, Ruunga a step to her left keeping a close eye on the medic and Jim. Realizing that the others were heading further inside the building, Jim tapped out a thank you on the blind woman's extended hand, trying not to cringe at the slip in attention. He knew better than to lose track of his surroundings, especially in an unfamiliar place.

Deciding to see how the Romulan took such an advance, he slipped Simone's arm through his own and offered a courtly bow once he knew she could feel it. She smiled at him and tapped upon his shoulder, _I can take care of myself, you know_. He grinned and responded aloud, "I have no doubts, my lady. This is merely for my own benefit. How could I not wish to enter with a beautiful woman on my arm?" She laughed at his antics and allowed herself to be lead after the rapidly disappearing group with Ruunga trailing behind them, observing silently.

The door they eventually followed the rest of the crew through was made of the same material as the rest of the building and Jim frowned at it thoughtfully. He could swear he'd seen this stuff somewhere before, but he couldn't recall any details. He shook it off as he, Simone, and Ruunga found seats in what appeared to be a moderately sized conference room. Bud sat at the head of a long, rounded table with Alex at his left and the rest of the crew spread around them.

"Here is your client, Benjamin Dor," Bud's voice was thankfully muted in the smaller space as a face appeared on a vidscreen opposite him. They all took a close look, wanting to make sure there were no mix-ups. Dor was human, male, with long black hair that curled wildly around his head and a grim mouth, thin-lipped and surrounded by lines of stress. "There isn't a lot of detail on the job, but I wanted to make sure you were aware of the current political situation in the Zheron system. Some of you probably already know about the classes of Zheron society, but for those who don't, there are two very distinct castes. I won't go into the details of the division because then we could be here for weeks, but suffice to say the lower class Aabs are treated at best as second-class citizens. A rebellion among the ranks has been brewing for years and things have been coming to a head in recent months. As far as I know, they haven't reached the point of all-out battle in the streets, but it's close. For this job, you're going to want to move fast and stay under the radar. Neither side much appreciates humans so try not to be _hungagens_ and draw attention. Vera II should be a nice break afterward, since it's about as peaceful as anyplace can get."

There was a pause as everyone absorbed the information before Bud finished up, "That's all I've got for you. Dor wants to be moving soon, understandably, so get going within the day. Good luck."

.:.:.:.

Three hours later, _Excalibur_ was well on the way to Zheron IX and Jim was beginning to contemplate a quick break to grab a snack. The pilot chair was certainly one of the most comfortable he'd had the luck to lounge in, but he was James T. Kirk and sitting still had never been one of his talents. Standing and stretching, he leaned over to press a few keys to keep the ship on track for a while without his guidance and marched out the sliding door toward the delicious smell of something freshly baked in the kitchen. It would seem coffee wasn't the only thing this crew knew how to do right.

Jim strode into the kitchen with a wide grin on his face that only widened at the sight of a triple-layer chocolate cake on the table. Beside it was a thin-tipped tube of white icing and a dull knife already coated in the same dark frosting that coated the cake. Glancing around, Jim walked over to one of the cabinets in search of a fork, only to pause as he opened a drawer full of large knives and heard heavy steps behind him. He turned quickly to see one of the twins, Ja'ugn, he thought it might be.

After a fleeting look his way, the half-Vulcan seemed to dismiss him, picking up the tube of icing and beginning to carefully mold words on top of the cake. Curious, Jim moved over until he could read over the shorter man's shoulder. So far, only four letters were shaped, but they were enough for Jim's curiosity to be even further peaked: H A P P. _Happy birthday?_ He drew the obvious conclusion which lead to the question of whose birthday it was. Not wanting to interrupt while the other man was working, Jim returned to his search for a fork, if only to occupy himself and get a little more familiar with the contents of the room.

When fifteen minutes had passed, he heard a wheeze of air and peeked over to see Ja'ugn, if that was who it was, squeezing the last of the icing onto the cake's top. Unable to resist, even if he would only be ignored again, Jim wandered over to see what was written. The letters were alternately blockish and curling for an interesting effect, but easily read: HAPPY BIRTHDAY KYLIE. Jim's first thought was how old she would be, closely followed by a mental procession of jailbait jokes he hoped to put to good use. Then he realized the twin was watching him with the same utterly expressionless face Spock often presented. Jim determinedly dismissed the pang in his chest at the sight and grinned at the blank face before him, "That looks delicious! I can't wait to try some; I haven't had a homemade cake in years."

No change in the expression except for a raised eyebrow and alright, it took him a little more effort to bypass the fucking hammer to his chest that time. Jim continued stubbornly grinning, refusing to let the silence get to him. Soon enough though, his natural propensity for making noise reared its head and he continued his one-sided conversation with the living alien wall, "I don't suppose you know where the forks might be? I want to try a bite of that." Ignoring the unresponsive half-Klingon ignoring him, Jim returned doggedly to his search for a fork in one of the dozen cabinets. Abruptly, a voice spoke quietly from behind him, "It is my understanding it is impolite to eat someone's birthday cake before they do." Jim almost did a ridiculous cheer at managing to draw an entire sentence out of the guy.

"That may be true, but I've never much concerned myself with what's polite." Jim grinned at the dry rise of both eyebrows this time into the slightly ridged forehead, "Shocking, I know." The room fell quiet again, as Jim proceeded with his quest for a fork and Ja'ugn watched with bland curiosity. Within five minutes, Jim found himself bored again and decided to try questions to fill the silence.

"So, how long have you and Ja'uld been with _Excalibur_?" Ja'ugn cocked his head to the side in surprise that the odd human could tell he and his brother apart. It was not a skill many possessed or found easy to acquire. He decided to humor the man, if only to see where he was going with this line of questioning.

"We joined the crew two years ago." Jim nodded where he was kneeling on the floor, most of his arm shoved into a bottom drawer, too focused on not losing a finger to the ridiculous amount of knives in the place to register that he'd just gotten another complete sentence out of the taciturn half-Vulcan.

"What exactly do you guys do? I know Alex mentioned it when he introduced you before that whole business with Tink's insecurity, but I missed the specifics." Ja'ugn considered carefully as he observed Jim with some amusement at his predicament, "Security." Jim took a moment away from his attention to the sharp things surrounding his arm to frown at his companion, "Could you be a little more specific?"

"There is little to specify. Zheron is hardly the first warring planet we will visit for business and it will not be the last. My brother, Ruunga, and I ensure that both the goods and the crew complete the job safely."

Jim hummed thoughtfully in understanding as he at last extricated his arm from the predatory drawer. The more he learned about this crew and its work, the more suspicious he found himself. He knew that most shipping vessels these days were employed by major companies and the few independents on the right side of the law tended to avoid more risky areas. However, many independent operations weren't on the right side of the law. He was beginning to think _Excalibur_ was among the majority, which meant Jim Kirk, former Captain of the _Enterprise_, was now a pilot for smugglers.

.:.:.:.:.

_hungagens_ - Rutagen for idiots


	4. Note: THE MUSE IS BACK

Hey folks,

I know you're probably kind of pissed at me, but I have good news! My ST muse is back from her vacation at long last and I have finally made headway on the next few _Insubordination_ chapters. It still might be a few days before the next update, but hey - there's hope now, right?

Please don't look at me like that.

Your apologetic authoress,

May Eve

—

PS. If anyone was curious, the muse went on vacation to Georgia (the country, not the state), somehow ended up in Uzbekistan instead, got lost and then apparently decided to backpack the whole way home. Yes, I am aware she would have had to backpack across an ocean at least once. No, I didn't ask.


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